


Comfort Food

by stingfurious



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Belly, Belly Kink, Burps, Comfort Eating, Established Relationship, Face Sitting, Feeding, Fluff, Hand Job, Injury Recovery, Kinda, Light BDSM, Oral Sex, Other, Smut, Stuffing, afab bloodhound, dom bloodhound but they sort of switch it up, its not the main focus, mirage's leg is already broken when the story starts, please look away if this isnt your kink lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-01 13:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18335501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingfurious/pseuds/stingfurious
Summary: Mirage manages to break his leg on live television, which would normally be tragic if it wasn't something out of a slapstick comedy. His ratings are thriving from it but he isn't. Bloodhound keeps him company and discovers the trickster likes to cope with one of his favorite things: pizza.





	1. Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> My very first time writing these two! 
> 
> Translations of Bloodhound's Icelandic via Google translate and language websites:
> 
> *Elskan- Darling  
> *Félagi- Companion or comrade
> 
> I don't have the translation for kjötsúpa but I do know it's a lamb soup.
> 
> Find me @ickyjunk on Twitter

A week prior Mirage and his squad were riding a win streak and on top of that he was the current reigning kill leader. That is up until Octane stole the title. Well, he earned it fair and square. But Mirage would argue he had it first there for it was his to lose.“Here it comes,” Elliott mentally prepared himself from the couch for the hundredth time to relive the moment he broke his leg on live TV. The trickster knew the scene by heart by now but preferred to watch the game in full anyway since the other legends were each interesting in their element. He liked to tell the press he rewatched the games to study his competition when really he was as much a fan as anybody else.

 

“Jump pad out!” Octane announced to his teammates, booking it for the bunker. The guy was a great competitor to work alongside but hell to play against. Between the stims and his simple while effective ultimate the other fighters could barely stick a bullet in him. Mirage bursted out from the natural rock siding outside of The Pit shouting,”Oh no you don't!” Famous last words. Determined to reclaim his rep he bolted for the launchpad in hot pursuit of the thrill seeker. The chase was short lived, cut off early by something unseen, maybe a rock or uneven ground. It didn't show up on TV either and he didn’t stop to check in the heat of the moment. It hurt to watch, some fans laughed while others on social media tried to “defend his honor.” The number of videos where someone edited the clip to match music was insane. Maybe Later when this all blew over he’d find humor in it.

 

He essentially belly flopped onto the pad. It somersaulted him into the air, the landing somehow remarkably less graceful than the take off if that were even possible. He landed smack on top of an unopened supply bin, thwacking against the metal. “Splat.” He mouthed around a slice of pizza. Octane skidded to a stop, awestruck by the misfortune. “That’s some good TV huh guys?” He laughed into the nearest camera then darted off to rejoin his squad.

 

The front door buzzed, pulling Elliott from his wallowing to the present. “Keys under the mat!” He called listening for the follow up of jingling keys. The door quietly cracked and Bloodhound slid through it, closing it behind them.”Hey buddy, welcome to my pity party! Really glad you could make it!” He beckoned them forward to come take a seat. They gave a snort before approaching Elliott, coming to a stop by the sofa to survey the scene set before them. “Are you expecting more guests?” They wondered aloud, a hint of confusion pricking their voice.

 

Elliott Witt, aka Mirage the famous trickster and beloved heartthrob of the Apex games was reclined against the couch, one pillow placed on the coffee table with a broken leg placed gingerly on top beside an unopened container of garlic knots. In the space right of him was a near finished pepperoni pizza, presumably for easy access. “Nope just you, I don’t want a lot of company anyway.” Elliott shrugged licking the pizza grease off his fingertips then reaching out for another slice, “I know how this looks, eating my feelings or whatever.”

 

“All of this because you injured yourself?” Bloodhound asked quizzically, tilting their head. _Yeah pretty much_. Seeing them in his living room brought Elliott back to reality, it didn't dawn on him how cooped he up he had been, something like shame pooling in his chest.”It isn't just a broken leg...its that I, Mirage- y'know THE Mirage- made a fool out of myself because of Octane. The man's only been in the games for a few months!” He exasperatedly sighed, like the situation was preposterous.“It did not happen because of Octane. You simply misstepped. It could have happened to any one of us.” They pointed out, brushing crumbs off the sofa preemptively before cozying up to their partner. Elliott could be somewhat of a drama queen at times. Still, a broken leg to a seasoned Apex fighter held many repercussions. Namely down time and declining viewers interest in the fighter's absence. Mirage was weirdly fortunate that he managed to fail so comedically. Octane's viewership would get a boost simply because he was there but as far as popularity goes this technically benefited Mirage aside from a bruised ego.

 

That quieted him, the corners of his lips twitching as he searched for a good rebuttal. _No Hound, you're a bad ass. This sorta thing doesn't happen to you!_ “What did Apex's medical team have to say about your injuries?” Bloodhound changed the subject to veer him from dwelling on it any further. “They showed me my X-Rays and told me I broke the bone below my knee, my fibula? That's it. They also said it was a closed fracture and that I was really lucky.” Elliott reiterated a short version of the nurse's long winded diagnosis. Bloodhound nodded clinking the rope cords threaded through their headpiece together, making an effort not to give it away that they'd noticed his full stomach clinging to the thin shirt he wore. While the mask made it harder to decipher where their eyes pointed, the slightest movement could give it away. He was certainly more sensitive on the inside than meets the eye. Hound however saw right through him as they did everybody else. Nonetheless the comfort eating came as a surprise.

 

“-Doc told me to keep my leg in-knobble..imbobble..eh..resting.” He settled on a word of fewer syllables, glaring at the fat white cast. “And it's going to be six to eight weeks of the bench till I can even think about getting back in the ring...go me.” The trickster laughed halfheartedly imagining the coming weeks, how it would drive him beyond stir crazy. He couldn't bear the thought of showing up to meet the press in crutches. The fanbase is probably speculating amongst themselves how long the hiatus will be. Ugh, he pictured the awful headlines journalists would write. _”The Holographic trickster gets tricked: What's next for Elliot Witt?”_ Some bizarre gimmicky shit like that.

 

Bloth inhaled upon hearing this news, their head drooping an indicator that they sympathized. It was Elliott's turn to notice them too, how their get up while much the same didn't include any armor or the equipment on their back. What specifically caught his attention though were their gloveless hands. He had seen them before but couldn't help reaching out to hold the one nearest to him, getting an instant squeeze in return.

-

 

Hound developed a soft spot for him, they practically mothered the fellow apex fighter. Once they'd taken it upon themselves to gift Mirage homemade soup when he'd managed to catch a bug. “You said your mother makes the best pork chops?” They had begun, a round container extended in their hands,” This is my mother's recipe for kjötsúpa. She used to make it for me whenever I fell ill. I did my best to prepare it, do not spare my feelings if you do not like it. Sadly I do not have a mother's touch.” The soup turned out  to be undeniably the best soup he ever tasted. No contest.

-

Only then did Hound notice the program on the television “You live and you learn fèlagi, next time you will be ready.” They spoke factually allowing no room for arguments,”We fought well, Ajay included. We lasted two more rounds after you were taken to the infirmary.” The replay of the game was almost over. The kind words flew over Elliot's head because the camera's perspective swapped to Bloodhound,  where they pounced on an unsuspecting Caustic.”Get off me, you rat!” The mad man croaked his final words in thrush of their signature knife plunging deep inside his chest.

 

It didn't matter that he'd seen this part over and over, he jumped on the opportunity to praise his partner.”Nice.” Mirage whistled complimenting the tracker's handiwork,”Y'know you're super hot when your goggles go all red like that-and you used to judge me for showing off!”

 

“That is the Allfather's gift in action, not theatrics.” Hound quipped, going smug. Sometimes Elliott couldn't tell if the flirting phased them or not. Either way it made him want them more. ”Pfft, you say that but I think you love letting out a nice blood curdling battle cry.” When they have nothing to say to that he awkwardly shifted topics to ask about their third teammate,”Hey is Ajay mad? I don't want to get on her bad side.”

 

“Mm, no. She was only disappointed that she didn't have the proper materials to dress your wounds.” Bloodhound recalled her frustration after battle.”Aw, she's the best.” The trickster murmured distracted as their hand left his to rest on his belly, assuming a slow circular motion. “You know,” they began in a gentle tone,”I would be more than willing to cook healthier meals for you while you recover.”Something to do with how they're pressing their hand low and flush to where he feels the most stuffed earns a small whimper from Elliott. “Stomach ache?” Bloth guessed, an unseen brow quirking,“Hold that thought.”

 

They both refocused on the television screen, mostly Hound who was seeing it for the very first time. Occasionally they were bitter after a match so they would deliberately avoid watching their failures and hope the Allfather could overlook their urge to wish things turned out differently. This game genuinely caught the trackers interest, mainly due to the stand off that would conclude the match.

 

Their fingers at work coaxed a loud burp from Elliott without restraint and he instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth a second too late. “Oh man that was actually really, really gross. I'm SO sorry hound I didn't mean to it-it-it slipped! I swear I'm uhm- Excuse me?” They turn their head, seemingly not bothered one bit and yet they _tsk_ ,“Do not fret, you're relieving some pressure as all. You ate far too much.” Without knowing why he almost whined at those words.“Relax elskan.” They coo a little, oblivious to the effect it has.

 

“There's some garlic knots over there I haven't touched…,” He manages to say,”Could you hand them to me?” The appalled face Bloth pulled was hidden in the mask,”You want more?” Their voice betrayed the alarm on their unseen expression.

 

“Please love, it would take me forever to get them myself.” Those pleading eyes  normally didn't work but the broken leg added a layer that cracked Hound's usual self control.”Here.” They gave up, taking the container in their lap to work around the aluminum tins plastic lid. “Thanks-” Elliott started to say, shushed by a garlic knot held in front of his nose in Bloths thumb and forefinger. “After this I suggest you switch to real protein, no more of this trash.” They scold hearing a low gurgle from the legend's middle.He loves this coddling, it warms his heart. “Ehh I'll eat an apple a day if it’ll make you happy.” Elliott meets them halfway, nipping the edge of the buttery knot.”Mmm…,” He moaned into the rich taste.

 

“Why must you…,” They trail off into a slight growl.

 

“Wmph?” _What?_ He wonders face full.

 

“Make everything erotic.” They answer with a period, thumb swiping the butter that wets Elliott's bottom lip when he takes the remainder of the knot in his mouth.

 

“Me? You're the one whose hand feeding me the garlic knots babe.” He swallows, grinning crookedly.

 

“Fair enough.”

 

They offer another, unable to look away from how the other bites softly through the bread. He closes his eyes then draws back chewing it carefully, earning a quiet chuckle from Bloodhound,”Good I take it?” That laugh alone could melt Elliott into the couch.The trickster gives a sly look, then takes their empty hand by the wrist to slick his tongue up their buttered digits.”Gods…,” They breathily mumble. Bloth's stray hand pets Elliotts firm belly until it's in reach of his pants. He jumps at the touch, going rigid under the impression this had taken a turn.“Wooah hey not yet!” Their fingers freeze near its button, cautious.“Likewise,” The hunter quickly concurs,”I was only thinking you could use the extra room.”

 

“Oh-OH!” Elliott reclines to present his zipper, uncharacteristically sheepish while Hound guides the button out through its loop. There’s an agonizingly long break of silence before either speak. “You okay there…?” He ends the sudden rift in the room.

 

Hound stops staring at his crotch but says nothing, their eyes combing the Apex fighter's body language. From the neck up, his skin is flushed. The hunter grasps one of his hands, confirming how clammy its gotten.

 

“Elliott, is this...arousing to you?” They try their best to pose this question gently.

 

Hound's company kept him busy enough the realization that he was packing heat only hit right then, the accusation followed an immediate throb below. “OH FUCK I don't know what I..oh this is weird isn't it? I wasn't trying to make this like that I mean I thought we were just hanging out! It was reallyreally kinda nice-romantic!”

 

“Mhmm.” Bloth nods, genuinely curious. It didn't take them very long in this relationship to figure out how receptive he was to any care giving. “If it brings you pleasure we can continue. I _want_ to make you feel good elskan.”

 

“May I?” They brush their fingertips over the hem of his t-shirt.

 

“Yespleasethankyou-.” He automatically sputters.

 

“Relax.” They repeat their words from earlier, slipping a palm under the fabric. The tiny exhale Elliott gives clues them their suspicion is correct. “I had no idea you were so sensitive here.” Bloodhound croons teasingly. “Me neither.” He huffs.

Hound tugs the shirt up, exposing the area of interest.“Is it because you're full?” He doesn't need to see them to know smug they look underneath the mask. _Fuck_. Elliott can only bite his lip, they snicker at that.

Their hand traces the curve of his while muscled, rounded out abdomen. Having momentarily forgotten Bloth grabs the take out container. Three garlic knots are left.”I can handle it.” Elliot insists knowing what they're thinking. It's a lot.

 

One out of three, it goes down fairly easily given his gut was granted a few minutes to sort itself out.

 

Two out of three. He politely stifles a burp in his fist, Hound rewards his manners in the form of a rub along the dip of his belly button.

 

Last but not least, the third. The doughy flavor is no longer as enjoyable and chewing has become a chore but he gets there. Bloodhound beckons him using the still mildly buttered hand that fed him,“That's it, now clean me up.” They extend their fingers readily.

 

Elliott's lips cap each individual finger, sucking them up to their knuckles thoroughly. The hand that nurtured his aching stomach found his hair ,stroking his curls.”Good boy.” They praise,”Such a good boy.”

 

“God _damn_ Hound, I need you now.” He helplessly hisses eagerly.

 

“Oh, but Elliott, you forgot one thing.” They whisper in a purr.

 

“Huh? What's that?”

 

Bloodhound wordlessly gets up on their knees on the sofa.Elliott's eyes flick down when he hears their own zipper come undone.

 

“Desert.”


	2. Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first ever fic that contains real smut and not just kink.  
> Also chapter 2 of my first Miragehound stuffing fic
> 
> Icelandic translations via google translate and language websites:  
> Guð - God

The coat falls away in a heavy pile on the living room rug alongside the rest of their gear. All that's left is a loose black tank top and he won't protest, in his experience it usually stays that way. It's a blessing when they allow themselves to be this bare at all coming from someone who has a few personal hang ups about their body.

 

When they crawl up his chest, he comes to the conclusion what he must be in for, crying out in a mixture of arousal and anguish. “I'm fucking dying hereee!” Straddling his shoulders, they harshly grab hold of the tricksters chin. “So selfish,” Bloth taunts stroking upwards along his throat,”And rude.” Elliott gulps knowingingly of his error, swearing often led to punishment when they were in charge. “I'm sorry! Sorry-I know.” He rushes to apologize whilst rubbing his thighs together. It's a pathetic display. He loves it all the same.

 

Satisfied, they inch closer till their folds peel apart ever so slightly overhead. The parted sliver glistens invitingly. _So wet_. “I want-” He shuts up to keep himself from misbehaving and listens for direction.“No, go ahead. Tell me.” Bloodhound demands releasing his jaw. With their encouragement he goes for it shakingly,” To eat you out.”

 

“Ah, you think you have the room?” They scoff, sounding so entertained by the notion it makes his dick sting in need.”Yes.” Elliott squirms.

 

”Try again.” Bloth waits, unmoving.

 

“Yes please.”

 

He catches Bloth flash the faintest smile before his eyes instinctively closed under the warm skin leveling onto his open mouth.  The legend hooks one thigh in each hand out from under them for support. Gasping, they quiver against the first long laps he gives taking in the vaguely metallic taste. Sliding throughout their nooks and crannies causes Bloodhound to hiss something he can't quite make out through their teeth.“Guð..,”Attuned to what they need from him, he flicks their clit on the tip of his tongue.

 

 Elliott's lips envelop their nub while one hand lets go of the hunter's left thigh to introduce an index and ring finger inside them. Sopping wet, it's easy to slip in. The other fingers rest in the valley the legs around it create. Hound pushed further into the touch, the subtle pulse of his tongue euphoric.

 

The soft cries that ensue bring him to gawk at them as best he can at an angle. The view is mainly their slim stomach, partially peeking out, smattered by various scars and burns. He can hardly see their face but their mouth is visibly agape, they must be close.

 

“G-guh…Elli…ot,” Bloodhound's hips roll forward on his chin, making friction on his tongues rhythm within them. If his mouth weren't busy he'd yelp. Instead his chest heaves while Bloth nearly fucks themselves while they ride out their orgasm.

 

Winded, Elliott's muffled pleas for air return them to the present. Even if he could breathe through his nose the entire time when they finished their weight came down on the other, legs too weak to stay propped up any longer.”Ah!” Bloodhound backed off and settled on tucking into his side.”You've been very good for me.”They smirk watching how he takes the neck of his shirt to wipe away the excess.“Houndie..” He trills the pet name, panting a bit. If they keep doing this he will no doubt finish in his briefs.

 

They are one step ahead, kissing a path that travels lower little by little starting at his neck,“You earned this.” Hound hums against him working past his chest. When they arrive at his belly they focus more kisses there than anywhere else. They like to take their time especially with this newfound sweet spot in mind, planting a couple on his lower abdomen for good measure. Elliot's agreeing moans are the evidence.

 

Bloodhound drops on the floor between the legends legs, helping him so his pants are just below his ass. That's about all they can do without the hassle of getting around the cast.”What a mess.” Hound comments fondly pulling him free from his pre dampened underwear, it naturally arcs toward him.

 

“Bloth could you...do something for me?” He sounds so submissive yet innocent it stops the hunter dead in their tracks all together, throwing a wrench in their level headed demeanor . “Could you...possibly maybe tell me what you can see from down there?” Elliot asks in one too many words, red in the face and doe eyed by his own request.

 

“Describe it?”

 

He chews his lip with a quick nod.

 

Straightening their back they pause to take in the image before answering.”Your cock is so hard Elliot.” The gears are turning while they paint this picture for him,”You're _dripping_.” Bloth clarifies drawing a finger through the drops that leaked out onto his happy trail. They follow it to his length, cupping his shaft. His breath catches, he has to physically resist the urge to jerk off in their closed fist.

 

“I can see how horny I've made you.” Hound explains nonchalantly stroking him,”When I got here you were already stuffed silly, but neither horny nor begging me to touch you. So what did it?” Using their thumb Bloth added pressure to his tip's slit. They were asking both to tease and in honest fascination.

 

“Ahh I don-dunno,um-?” He was at a loss for words, not fully comprehending it himself.”Try.” They brushed their long hair behind their ears. Oh boy, that usually meant they were about to- they licked the head.”Hnng…I-I felt so embarse…ha fuck..embur..st.” Bloodhound ran their tongue along the full length of his cock, giving him eyes that said “continue.”

 

“But you...rubbed my-yuhhh-yes that's it baby.” He shuddered as they engulfed him partially in their mouth, sucking him within its warmth.”Then you sweet talked me...god _fucking_ damn and mm...fed...me..!” Hound slurped audibly.

 

“Plus I missed you Houndie.” Elliot added with the last of his fading composure,”I d-didn't get to see you for a couple days after I got hurt.” Sometimes signing up for Apex meant having no time for anything but the games, loved ones included.

 

They slowed momentarily, making a soft indistinct noise. The feeling was mutual.

 

Then at last Bloth took him deep in their throat. He belted out a sonorous moan,carefully brushing the flyaways from their face and mumbling graciously about how sexy they look wrapped around his dick. Their head bobbed on the uptake. He made sure to pet their hair appreciatively upon hearing a few muted gags. Elliot was fairly well endowed.

 

Having to eventually come up for air they released him, passing his cock to their palm and spitting on its pink head. They personally found this crude, however, a certain someone liked things a little on the dirtier side. That someone cursed,”Holy shit please spit on it again.” They promptly did so whilst keeping up a steady tugging motion. In addition Hound loomed over it, lulling their tongue out to meet with the seed. In combination it drove Elliot crazy.”I'm-,”

 

Bloodhound peered at him, half lidded and preoccupied. _Beautiful._

 

Then he came without much warning.Cum spotted his lovers features, some spilling out on his belly. Bloth's shoulders twitched on impact but they stayed put, swallowing what dropped onto their tongue.

 

“Wow. Look at you.” Elliot sat up on his elbows admiring.

 

They licked their lips,“I could say the same about you.” Hound spoke kittenish as if they hadn't just been given a facial. Or was currently slathered in it.”Hey hang on a second, I gotcha.” Wanting to help he yanked his shirt up and over his head, handing it off to them. If they hadn’t seen him use it they wouldn’t do this. “Thank you.” Bloth gratefully dabbed themselves clean. “Um did I get any on me? I feel like it's on me.” He gestured to himself shyly, nonverbally asking for a favor to save him the physical ordeal, what with his leg and all. They had the t-shirt on disposal but reconsidered.

 

“I am SO lucky.” Elliot tittered upon sensing the wet sensation of a tongue lapping away at the mess.”Come here.” His nose indicated the couch, hands caught in the midst of tucking himself in his pants. Hound rose and got themselves cozy once more, draping an arm and a leg across Elliot from his left side.

 

“Houndie…?” He was met with apprehension to discuss this. They simply perched their chin on his shoulder patiently.”Can we do something like this again? No pressure! Actually pretend I didn't say no pressure because that makes it sound like there's a _ton_ of pressure. You could say no and that would be cool is what I'm trying to say.” He finished. _Yeah that didn't sound like begging at all._

 

Bloodhound's fingers found his stomach, strumming its unfamiliar round shape. The growing suspense could’ve killed him had they not soon spoke up,”I would be willing to experiment.” They supposed going on,”I liked having a new way to tease you, but also, to care for you.” Bloth went soft,”It’s _cute_.” Despite being completely spent, being called “cute” by Bloodhound struck him down all over again. The phrase left a sweet after taste in their mouth.

 

“But I’ll be making you real food from now on.” They decided, a small smile crossing their expression.

 

_Awww come on!_

 

“Deal.” Elliot tried not to pout.


End file.
